


There Was A Time

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 17:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3142961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a time when Kurt would have rushed up the last few stairs to get to his husband that much more quickly.</p>
<p>Spoilers: futurefic, set ten-plus years or so in the future with no spoilers beyond 5x20 (“The Untitled Rachel Berry Project”)</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Was A Time

**Author's Note:**

> In previous years, I wrote fics to bookend Glee’s summer hiatus, one at the start and one at the end on a similar theme. This year the show’s hiatus lasted a lot longer than just the summer, but I still wrote bookends. [“Seven Things Kurt and Blaine Do On Their Couch This Summer”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1863525) was the first one. Here is the second, with the shared theme of domesticity and couches.
> 
> Married futurefic.

An icy tendril of melting snow slithered down the back of Kurt’s neck, worming its way underneath the scarf he had clearly not knotted carefully enough within the collar of his coat. He grimaced as the freezing water slid persistently down between his shoulderblades, but he didn’t bother trying to stop it, just continued trudging up the stairs to the door of the apartment. His bag was heavy on his shoulder, his legs stiff with cold from the bitter winter temperatures outside, but he was nearly home. Just a few steps more.

There was a time when Kurt would have rushed up the last few stairs to get to his husband that much more quickly, too eager to be with Blaine again to waste even a few seconds. His heart would have been racing with anticipation, his steps light and quick, no matter how long his day. Now, he didn’t need to push his tired body to get there faster; Blaine would still be there when he got home. 

Kurt could hear piano music through the front door as he fished his keys out of his bag with cold-clumsy fingers, and the corner of his mouth tugged up into the ghost of a smile. The music stopped and started again as he slid the key into the lock, but he caught enough of the aborted phrase to recognize it as the bridge to Taylor Swift’s latest single.

_Of course it is_ , he thought to himself fondly, letting himself into the apartment. He knew all too well how much Blaine loved her.

The music was louder in the front hall, spilling in fits and spurts out of the tiny dining room they used as a music room, and Kurt’s faint smile lingered as he set down his bag and tugged off his slush-covered ankle boots in an awkward hopping maneuver he was glad no one was there to see.

He pulled off his soggy socks, too, holding them by their dry cuffs as he headed down the hallway, leaning in through the doorway to the music room when he reached it.

There was a time when he would have lifted his voice up in song, harmonizing his homecoming and getting a delighted smile in reply, but he knew Blaine was working, and once his train of thought was gone it could be hard to re-capture, no matter how happy Blaine might be to see him. Kurt could wait to be noticed.

Blaine was frowning down at the piano, adding different trills to the bridge with each pass over the notes and shaking his head each time he stopped. Kurt enjoyed the few moments to admire his fingering and the few tiny threads of silver shining in his hair before Blaine caught sight of him and looked up with a start. He glanced between Kurt and the little clock tucked between framed photographs on the bookcase.

“I didn’t expect you home yet,” Blaine greeted him in surprise. “Wasn’t your rehearsal supposed to go until five?”

There was a time when Blaine would have jumped up to greet him, ready to drop everything to kiss him hello and welcome him home, but those years of youthful enthusiasm were in the past. Kurt didn’t expect it, even as he could feel the memory of Blaine’s enveloping hug around him, that phantom jittering excitement of being together once more.

Kurt nodded. “Sophie fell and twisted her knee on the ice on the way in,” he explained. “We could only work on vocals today. Peter sent us all home early with dire warnings about walking carefully and the hidden dangers of slippery subway entrances.”

There was no less love in Blaine’s eyes than there was in Kurt’s memory, but he stayed at the piano as he said, “I’ll be done with this arrangement soon, unless the music will bother you.”

“Hearing you at the piano never bothers me,” Kurt said with an answering smile and warmth in his heart. “Besides, I’m going to go take the longest shower the water heater will allow. I think I’m half-man, half-ice-sculpture at this point.”

“Okay,” Blaine chuckled. “Happy thawing.”

“That’s entirely up to the water heater,” Kurt said and turned away to pad down the hall.

“I hope it’s in a good mood!” Blaine called after him.

There was a time when Blaine would have offered to warm him up, himself, heating Kurt’s body with the wonders and pleasures of his own, but this was easier and far more efficient. Blaine was still a master at making Kurt’s toes curl, but since he couldn’t actually _feel_ his toes a scalding shower was a far better choice.

Kurt stripped out of his clothes in the bedroom, dumping most of the the soggy mess in the hamper with a mournful noise at the slush on his beautiful jeans and laid out his sweater flat on the bed to deal with it later. Then he turned on the shower in their tiny, white-tiled bathroom and breathed in the steam that began to fill the room. His nose was still cold to the touch as he rubbed it with his fingertips, but the thought of impending warmth made him shiver with anticipation instead of the temperature.

The first blast of the shower sluicing over him felt as cold as the slush from the street as his body’s chill overwhelmed the warmth of the spray, then changed to feeling as hot as boiling water in contrast to his icy skin. He winced and fought himself to stand there and endure the necessary torture, but as his body warmed he relaxed into the sensation. He turned slowly beneath the spray and sighed out his relief. Warm at last, or at least getting closer to it. He let the steam and water wrap around him, soothing his aches and centering him back in his body.

With heavy arms, he washed his hair and scrubbed his face, suddenly almost too tired to do so but knowing the temperament of the water heater well enough not to wait. He didn’t linger over it, just got himself sorted and then stood dreamily under the water until it spat cold against his neck before turning hot again.

Kurt groaned to himself. He could have easily stood there for another half hour, soaking up every bit of warmth, but he knew it was only a matter of moments before he’d be subjected to a blast of water as cold as he’d faced outside. He shut off the shower with a quick twist of his wrist and a silent grumble to the temperamental water heater. Shivering a little as he toweled off, the draft from the pretty leaded window as unforgiving as always, he burrowed into his plush bathrobe as he hurried down the hallway to the bedroom.

The apartment was quiet apart from the clacking whir of the dishwasher, and Kurt hummed to himself the song Blaine had been playing as he pulled on a soft pair of lounge pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He hesitated for a moment before adding a thick pair of socks and a bulky, warm cardigan. Even his nose wasn’t cold anymore, and he wasn’t about to let himself get chilled again.

There was a time when he would have fussed over his hair for a few minutes, making sure it was if not perfect then at least tousled in an attractive fashion to catch Blaine’s eye, but he just combed it with his fingers so that it wasn’t hanging in his eyes. Blaine had seen him undone in so many ways for so many years that it didn’t matter what he looked like, really. He’d fix his hair properly after his shower in the morning.

Kurt found Blaine on the sofa with his laptop on his knees, his fingers flying even faster over the keys than they had at the piano, but this time instead of staying focused on his work Blaine set it aside with a smile.

“Better?” Blaine asked, putting his computer on the coffee table and picking up one of the steaming mugs sitting in front of him.

There was a time when Kurt’s heart would have thrilled with a giddy delight at Blaine making a cup of tea for him, and gratitude for the care did still glow deep inside him, but he pondered the time of day and his caffeine intake as he sank onto the couch beside his husband, not wanting his evening routine to be too disturbed.

“I think my toes are still frozen,” Kurt said, wiggling them in his socks. He accepted the cup of tea, breathing in its honey-sweetened, herbal scent. Blaine had chosen correctly, no caffeine, and Kurt’s smile grew.

“That’s because you refuse to wear insulated snow boots,” Blaine said with a grin, picking up his own mug of tea.

“When LL Bean walks the Paris runways, I’ll consider it,” Kurt said. He set his feet up on the coffee table and curled his body a little toward him.

Blaine’s smile didn’t waver as he took a sip of his tea, his eyes bright on Kurt’s face. “One of these years I’m going to buy you a pair of their warmest boots for Christmas.”

Kurt lifted his head from where he was still inhaling the steam from his mug. “You wouldn’t dare.”

There was a time when Kurt would have been offended by the very notion of Blaine trying to dress him, and he still was in a way, even if he knew Blaine would do his very best to find something that Kurt would think would look good. He’d fail, but he’d try.

Blaine’s eyebrows rose in teasing challenge. “You’d have to wear them, too. You wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“You wouldn’t _dare_ ,” Kurt repeated more darkly, because he could absolutely envision Blaine buying him a pair of serviceable and ugly boots - and _warm_ , he thought with a pang of longing he wouldn’t admit to experiencing - and him feeling obligated to wear them out of love and kindness and all of those things being married meant. “You know we agreed you wouldn’t ever buy clothes for me again after the puppy tie incident.”

“I just want your feet to be warm,” Blaine said with wide eyes, far too innocent for someone whose thirtieth birthday was behind him. “And the puppy tie is couture.”

“Its only redeeming quality,” Kurt replied. That and the fact that Blaine’s face lit up when Kurt wore it to have a candlelight dinner at home with him. Leaving the house in it was another thing altogether... although he was fairly certain if Blaine shot him those liquid, pleading eyes of his Kurt would at least be tempted to agree.

There was a time when Blaine _would_ have asked him to wear it out, desperate for the reassurance that he had done well; now he seemed to understand what it meant that Kurt wore it for _him_ even if Kurt would never have chosen it himself.

Blaine nudged Kurt’s feet with his own, and Kurt tucked his toes against Blaine’s ever-toasty ankles. He slid over the few inches it took to lean against Blaine’s side, sighing with fatigue as Blaine’s arm slipped over his shoulders and drew him snugly against him.

Despite the shower, the tea, and the hug, Kurt still felt chilled deep in his bones, the heat from the mug making his hands ache in a way he hated. He’d gotten too cold while he was out, and he wasn’t recovering the way he used to. If it kept up, this could be the year that he broke down and bought more practical winter gear, if only so he wasn’t as stiff as a board when he got wherever he was going. It was bad enough thawing out at home, but at rehearsals he needed to be limber from the start.

Still, he wasn’t ready to admit defeat. Not yet. Not to himself, and not to Blaine.

He just pressed in closer, glad for the comfort of Blaine’s body and his steady affection. “I’m not wearing LL Bean,” he muttered and took a sip of his tea. “Not even if DVF herself bestowed it upon me.”

“But if I did, you would,” Blaine said with a soft laugh, rubbing Kurt’s back.

Kurt tipped his head against Blaine’s and sighed with the pleasure of it, the pleasure of warmth and Blaine and their soft couch in their cozy apartment, so many layers of comfort after the icy, prickly, busy world outside their door. “I plead the Fifth,” he said.

“This isn’t a court of law,” Blaine reminded him. “I don’t think you can really do that.”

“But you’ll let me anyway.”

Blaine’s phone chimed with an incoming e-mail, and he picked it up from the arm of the couch as he pressed a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head. “Always.”

Sitting back up, Kurt smiled into his tea, letting the heat curl through him. He stretched out his legs again and reached for the remote while Blaine typed away on his phone beside him, looking down at it with the vague squint he’d developed against what Kurt assumed was his vanity’s refusal to let himself get glasses.

There was a time when Kurt might have felt ignored or slighted by Blaine turning his attention away from him, feeling like he was less important to him than whatever work was on his phone, but it was just life carrying on, as it always did. They were together, on their couch, in their home. The rest didn’t matter.

The TV flickered on, bathing them in a cool blue light, and Blaine hummed the bridge of that song again as Kurt scrolled through the shows that had piled up on the DVR. Kurt’s smile twitched further to life at the sound of his lovely voice, the soundtrack to his days and his dreams.

His toes might still have been cold, and now his side, too, that he wasn’t sitting quite so close, but Kurt felt warm from the inside out.

There was a time when an evening in with television and buzzing phones and the promise of leftovers would have felt like it wasn’t enough.

There was a time when he would have fought for attention, fought for making every night an event, fought for being heard about his fashion choices, his tea requirements, or any of his other needs.

There was a time when it would have felt hard, when Blaine would have been wound up and worried about failure, about that bridge not falling into place for him, about what it all meant for them if they were drifting through their day instead of working at their relationship.

Curled up on the couch beside his husband, their toes tucked together on the coffee table, Kurt was so very glad that time was well behind them.

There was a time when this ease would have felt wrong, like they had come apart, but not anymore.

They weren’t apart, not at all.

This was _their_ life, day in and day out, every single day. Together.

This - their apartment and their couch and their enveloping, boundless, sometimes unspoken but always present love - was _home_.

They hadn’t failed, no matter what they might have felt about it when they were younger.

They’d simply succeeded beyond what their wildest dreams ever could have been back then.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: I AM SPOILER-FREE. PLEASE TELL ME NOTHING ABOUT SEASON SIX! THANK YOU!


End file.
